Boogie Woogie Bugle Girl of Company E
by vintagecowgirl101
Summary: A spirited city girl from Chicago with a screaming gift for blowing her horn, LaVerne Claiborne joins the infamous boys of Easy Company as their bugler. She becomes their sunshine, boosting the boys' morale with every sassy squeal of the brass. Luz O/C
1. Musically Blessed

**BOOGIE WOOGIE BUGLE GIRL OF COMPANY E. **

******Musically Blessed**

"Goddamn Austrian," Sissy wrinkled up her face with a sour tone.

"Don't worry about it, our boys will take care of him." LaVern proudly confirmed.

Sissy looked up at the ceiling, "Yea, well what about the Japs?"

"Would you both stop your political debate?" their father rounded the sofa with a grin, nonchalantly placing a corduroy sack upon LaVern's lap. Hiding his smug smile, he turned down the radio announcing the casualties for the day.

She curiously looked over to him as he lowered down in the chair, "What's this?"

Father playfully rolled his eyes, "Just open it up."

Slightly pinching the tan fabric, feeling the cool and smooth texture of metal, LaVern searched for an opening. Sewed to the end was a silver zipper. Glancing up to Sissy, who had a knowing smile slapped on her smooth face, she let the teeth open. Then out came the instrument that would forever change her life.

"A trumpet?"

He lightly shook his head with a wink, "Do you see any valves? I thought I raised you better than that!"

"A bugle?"

Both of their faces were cracked in half with shining beams. The classically featured woman lovingly observed the small dents pressed into the silver of the horn. It smelled of oil and her father, clearly spit-shined by him. The small mouthpiece was tarnished and worn.

"We can't afford this," she guilty ran her dainty fingers along the cool metal that wound down into a loud bell.

He let out a scoff, "It was mine… when I was a soldier." His eyes burned, "I played 'Taps' one too many times on that ole thing."

Sissy lightly punched LaVern in the thigh, poking her to say something- anything.

"I don't know how to play."

Father put his fingertips together, "Try?"

LaVern pulled her lips together, and put the cold ring against them. Gathering all of her courage, she tensed her diaphragm and let the unborn notes squeeze through her red lipstick. Buzzing in the middle of the five lined staff rung a sharp note through their bright living room. LaVern and her older sister had never seen her father smile so vibrantly.

"Yes!" He clapped his hands together, "Again, again! I _knew _you were blessed."

Pursing her lips for another sweet and saucy note, LaVern wrapped her pinky against the rest and squeezed her dark eyes together.

"A scale, play a scale," his deep voice begged under the forte sound.

The God's of music trained her lips in a matter of minutes how to blow a solemn low note as well as the welting high ones.

He sat next to her, resting a hand on her knee as the bugle sat in her lap. "This thing hasn't been played in years," he felt the warmth growing through the pipes from her breath.

"Thank you for it, I'm sure it holds a lotta memories for you."

Sissy pointed an authoritative finger, "_A lot of_. No wonder you don't have a boyfriend, with the way you speak."

LaVern narrowed her eyes at her goody goody sister. Sissy had never even tasted alcohol, let alone down it like LaVern did. She stayed home and studied, while LaVern when to wild swing clubs with her friends.

"Now now, you two." He turned back to his youngest daughter, "Verny, would you ever play in a band?"

She humbly winded her thumbs together, "I'm not good enough."

"You've just started, my dear."

"Still… I guess it would be fun. It's always been a dream, you know." Her face burned red, embarrassed by the wildness of her dreams.

Smiling brightly, David bent back his head and gazed up at the ceiling, "I heard something on the radio today-"

"I'll let you two crazy dreamers do what you do best," Sissy hastily stood up, bouncing up the steps. It was just an excuse to call her dearly beloved football team Captain boyfriend.

"Anyway," he smirked with a twisted grin. "The Army, they need buglers. The reporter on LIFE is suggesting all musicians to abandon their bands in the States."

Chocolate eyes growing, LaVern looked at her father like he was insane, "You ain't serious, are you?"

"AREN'T!" Sissy bellowed down the staircase.

The pair rolled their eyes in unison.

"Think about it this way! You'll be playing not only with, but _for _the best band the world has to offer. Just think, you, a bugler in the United States Army. You'll be like me, honey."

"Yea, real picturesque," she said weakly. "I know you've always wanted a son, Daddy. But my plans are a lot different than yours," LaVern quickly thought of the family she wished to have one day.

David took her small, thin hands, "Our boys need a girl as bright as you are, Verny."

"Yea, as a pin-up," she whispered irritably under her breath.

"That isn't what I'm suggesting, dear. If you really don't want to… I just thought instantly of you when I heard the story. I dug up this old thing, shoving my unfulfilled dreams onto your poor soul."

LaVern gnawed on her lip, "It'd be fun, I think."

"You've always liked to have fun."

She chuckled light heartedly as she wound her fingers in the thick, dark curls that kinked around her jaw line, "This is true. I think I'll consider it."

"Whatever the decision is that you make, I'll stand right behind you, Verny girl."

Smiling, she gently pecked her father's scruffy cheek, "Thank you, for sharing this with me." Her father was, and always had been her best friend. LaVern didn't think she could bear to leave the man.

B.o.B.

**Two months later:**

"You're really going?" Sissy weakly asked as she continues embroidering a mysterious ribbon. LaVern swung her legs off the edge of her older sister's bed, counting the lights emerging from the nighttime Chicago city windows.

She sat up from the down comforter, "My heart tells me it would be best." LaVern tucked a stray curl behind her ear, "I just wanna make dad happy, Sis."

"Want to," she warned.

She bit her tongue, begging herself not to curse her sister. She needed her advice so terribly.

"Are you _ever _going to get married, LaVern Claiborne? Honestly, I don't want to see such a pretty face go to waste when you become an old spinster." She spoke sadly with the mention of seeing.

Irritated, she fell back into the plush bed, "I just want somebody I can have fun with. Laugh and joke with… have a good time with."

Sissy snorted, "Good luck finding a man like that when the economy is like it is. Everybody is so serious nowadays."

"Including yourself."

Sissy slammed the needle and thread into her lap, "I may be losing my sight, but I can still hear, LaVern!"

She was painfully and slowly going blind.

"That's just the thing… my heart is telling me there is that kind of man in the service. One with a wild spirit like mine. I know I sound like a lunatic, but I can just feel it."

Sissy returned to her work, "You've always been a dreamer."

"What do you think? I mean, you have a beau and all… what's it like?"

"Terrible, really. Patrick will leave me when I'm completely blind. He's too selfish to take care of me- lead me around and all the things we take for granted."

"Then why do you stay with him!?" LaVern spat out.

She weakly shrugged her shoulders, "I love him, that's why."

"I'm staying then. I'm going to stay and take care of you, Sis."

Sisssy stood, holding on firmly to the mahogany desk below her. The blindness was now so progressed; she could barely see her own footing. "Vern, that's sweet, but I couldn't bear to stop your dreams. Do you have that bugle of yours?"

The silver horn was laying faithfully at her side, "Right here, why?"

"Here," Sissy held out a fluttering ribbon of blue velvet with gold thread scripted into it. Able to tie a knot with just touch, Sissy slowly secured the velvet onto the ring of LaVern's bugle. The magnificent embroidery read '_Claiborne_'.

The two sisters tightly embraced, "You're going, and you best not forget your family while you're there."

LaVern choked into her sister's long, Veronica Lake hair. Both giving another firm squeeze, they held each other at arm's length.

"Love ya, Sis."

"Love _you_," she playfully said with a sideways smirk. "And I love _you_,too."

The youngest rest a sassy hand on her broad hip, "I'm going to miss that, actually."

Sissy lighting punched her shorter sister in the shoulder, "Don't let those rowdy men destroy everything I've taught you."

B.o.B.

Her heels clicked against the white tile of the kitchen floor. David set down the phone, and turned around with an excited smile plastered across his sandy face. "Pack your bags. We're heading off to Brooklyn."

LaVern held a hand over her gawking mouth, "What?"

"Colonel Sink just returned my call; you know that one with the Airborne? Says they want you!"

LaVern began laughing out loud, the happiness erupting out of her soul. "What else did he say?"

"We have to get to Brooklyn within three days. You missed the training, but he says you'll learn the require battlefield skills once they reach England. You're going to be a bugler, honey."

Holding on tightly to his strong neck, LaVern laughed into his neck with her overcoming joy.

**This chapter was rather short, but I wrote it with the intention of early character development. I'm sure you guys are sick of my Band of Brothers stories, but I am extremely excited to write this. Please let me know what you think of it so far. This should be a pretty unique, not Mary Sue OC story, so I hope you enjoy the journey! :)**


	2. Not Just a Broad

**Thank you for all the positive feedback!**

**I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

"I think I'm ready to go back home," LaVern drew her bugle tighter to her chest, eyeing the swarm of men clamoring under the canopy of cigarette smoke.

Her reassuring father held her shoulders and gently nudged her, "C'mon now, you wanted this."

She looked back at him and grimaced, "But they're so _big_!"

"Warfare is a man's world, Vern." He squeezed her shoulders again, "Don't let them know you're scared."

She stubbornly stomped her heel, "I am _not _frightened!" LaVern stiffened her lower lip, knowing her father's trick was always to tell her one thing so she would do the opposite.

The stiff fabric of his old service uniform rubbed against the starched floral pattern of her seasonal dress as they embraced. If she was going to be a woman mixed in with all these men, then let them all know. "Bye, papa. Take care of yourself." She gently kissed his clean-shaven cheek and let the fire of her golden eyes meet his.

"The same goes for you," he held her pointed chin firmly. "Don't forget to write us!" He gave her broad shouldered back one last pat as she turned to mingle with her new comrades.

Fondling the horn through the corduroy case, LaVern waved at her father who was fighting back tears. They pushed and shoved her, but the sassy LaVern gave the rowdy men the same treatment. Getting stopped at the bottom of the ramp, a burly man fastened a stiff and white life vest around her neck.

"Ma'am?" he politely tapped her shoulder before she could escape. "You'll need to take off your shoes. The heels could cause sparks, and we don't need that."

"Gotcha," she smiled good-naturedly, pulling off the white shoes from her nude hose.

Holding on firmly to the railing as the careless strangers bumped her, LaVern tugged at the bulky vest. Once she had reached the deck, she gazed around to take in the magnificent sight ahead of her. The towering lady of her great country was watching the skyscraper city before her. Once burning torch held firmly in one jade hand, a tablet grasped in the other. Eyeing the grand statue, LaVern drew her favorite instrument tighter to her chest.

"Who's the broad?" she heard one man whisper curiously to his pal.

She dramatically rolled her eyes as she worked at the knot securing the jacket to her lean neck. "Goddamn it!" she spat out under her breath, feeling wondering eyes on her struggling figure. "Fuck this shit!" she yelled, hurling the life vest to the floorboards.

"If you want to swear like a sailor, you should have joined the Navy," a cold voice sent a shiver down her spine. Spinning around with two shoes and a bugle held in her hands, LaVern's frustrated eyes met with a pair of dark and intimidating ones.

"Sorry, sir. I was, uh, just trying to find the company I'm assigned to." Remembering her manners, LaVern clapped to a firm attention. "Can you direct me towards them? Easy Company? I'm their bugler." She said, gesturing coolly to her bugle.

He looked as her with disbelief painted on his shadowed face. She acted as if she wasn't the old woman here, standing on the deck of a deporting ship with the destination of England to fight in a war. "Uh, some of the men are over there, by the railing." He was so shocked by her distinct courage, Ronald Speirs was completely dumbfounded.

Confidently strolling over to the cluster of men with eagles on their shoulders, the soles of her hosiery caught on the small splinters on the wooden boards.

Timidly tapping the shoulder of a slim faced man, joking with two other guys, LaVern's high voice stuck out like a sore thumb. "This Easy Company?"

A fiery haired soldier's almond shaped eyes grew wide, while the other round faced man winked quickly at her.

The man she had tapped turned to look at what his friends were staring at with such awe. "W-wha…?" His bewildered faced matched his Speirs'. "Hi there, name's Skip Muck."

"What are you doing on here?" the round faced man spluttered out.

Placing on hand on her hip, she argued, "Is that anyway to introduce yourself?"

"Alex. Alex Penkala, and this here is Don Malarkey-"

"Christ, Penk! I can introduce myself!" The redhead offered a freckled hand to her, and LaVern let out a small chuckle.

"Nice to meet you, fellas." She smiled warmly, "Is this Easy Co.? I'm supposed to be their bugler, but between you guys and that scary man over there," she pointed over her shoulder with a thumb. "I'm a little confused."

"That's just Speirs… and did you just say something about a bugler?" Skip questioned, gawking at her.

Grinning, LaVern slid the polished silver from the case. Dowsing her bright smile at their astonishment, she managed to blow out a melody of striking and shrill notes. The entire ship deck immediately slipped into a silence.

"Yes, yes. To extinguish any further questions, I am your bugler and I am a woman… not a broad. We'll set that straight right now."

Setting their Lucky Strikes back in their lips, the men outside of the company returned to their busy chattering as others hurled themselves over the railing to spew. Cocking one square eyebrow at the horrendous sound, LaVern didn't even notice the short, dark-haired puppet like man standing before her.

"Heya, doll face. I'm George Luz, but please call me Georgie." He pulled his white cancer stick from his teeth, holding the moist end to her face.

To all of their surprise, LaVern snatched it up hastily, her lungs yearning to hold the smoke. Speaking through the shared Strike, she played, "I'll be sure to remember that, Georgie." LaVern sealed it with a wink.

"Jeezus, she even smokes," another short man elbowed Skip. Drawing attention to herself with her small concert, the rest of the men from the company had circled around her.

Georgie piped up, "Here's 'Wild' Bill Gonorrhea-"

"Wait, wait…" she held up a finger. "Do you actually have Gonorrhea?"

"Nah, that's just his nickname," Luz continued down the line, not even concerned a woman had just openly spoken about an SDT. "This is Bull," an enormous man grinned politely down at her through his cigar. "And that skinny little guy over there is Liebgott, and he's shooting the shit with Johnny Martin."

Two hands wrapped around her shoulders, and a head popped beside hers. "We thank you for your tour, Luz, but I have to steal her."

"Aww, c'mon Lieutenant Winters! I ain't done yet!" Luz argued. LaVern could practically hear Sissy scolding him for saying 'ain't'.

She turned around to find a slender redhead with icy blue eyes smiling warmly at her. "Colonel Sink needs to meet with you, Miss Claiborne."

"Until next time, boys," she playfully waved as the handsome officer led her away.

She heard Bill's thick Philly accent bicker, "Really, the Quaker of all people gets her to himself?" Holding down a giggle as Winters held open a door, LaVern squinted through the steam that dimmed the auburn light of the steam room. After minutes of the taunting sound of clicking meters and steam pelting her legs, they finally neared a door with 'HQ' painted on the glass.

"Here she is, Colonel," Winters spoke, holding the door open for her. The white-haired man with a mustache to match stood from his desk. Winters stood at attention to the raised officer, and the clueless LaVern mirrored his action.

"Dismissed," Sink nodded to the Lieutenant and directed his attention solely to the woman before him.

"Here, sit down," he warmly gestured towards a large leather armchair.

Running her hands down the back of her legs to smooth out her dress, LaVern instinctively crossed her legs. She blushed violently as both her and the Colonel at the same time realized she was still barefoot.

"I apologize, sir. A man at the ramp told me they could cause sparks?"

"Oh, nonsense! Put 'em back on, dear."

Relaxing her shoulders with how comfortable she was growing, LaVern slipped her shoes back on her feet that were now covered in runs.

"How were the men? They are the best I have, so I have high expectations."

Placing a thoughtful finger on her chin, she tried to remember their names, "Oh, they were great. That George Luz was rather comical, and Bull was a giant. Malarkey was very polite, and excuse my language, but Speirs scared the hell out of me, sir!"

Sink let out a hearty laugh, holding his abdomen. LaVern's face glowed; pleased she had made him laugh. "Ohh, yes. He has a tendency of scaring people. How are you feeling? Do you have any questions Private Claiborne?"

"I feel fine, a little shaky because of all the commotion, but I'll be fine. I do have a few questions though, sir."

"Let me have 'em."

"Well, this is the Airborne, so how will I acquire the necessary training to become a paratrooper? What will my schedule be for bugling? Will I be asked to fight at all, or will I stay off of the line? Where are my quarters? And, where is this ship even headed?" She blew out a puff of air through her painted lips.

"To start, the ship will port in England and there you will earn your Jump Wings. Lewis Nixon will be your jump instructor." He noticed her worried face, "Yes, another name to remember. As for bugling, we will need a call to wake the men up and another at night. The Airborne's position in this war is still young, so I do not know when you will be required on the line. You will, though, have a weapon on your person at all times for multiple reasons, LaVern. You will stay in the officer's quarters until we reach England; until the men get used to you." He sucked in a breath, too. "Does that answer everything?"

She beamed, "Yes, sir, it does."

"Good then." He laced his fingers together and placed them in his lap. "It is dark out now, so you should go get yourself acquainted. The officer's quarters are down the hallway and to the right. We have some small sized uniforms in there for you to wear. Sorry, you can't wear a dress."

She lightly sighed, "As expected, sir." She gave him a handshake over the desk before standing. LaVern gave him a confident salute before turning towards the door. Her feet and shins ached from all of the traveling and bustling and she yearned for the feel of a bed beneath her.

Tearing his tense right hand from his forehead, Sink remembered to say something else, "Oh, and LaVern?"

"Yes, sir?" She faced him again, holding her fingers around the doorknob.

"I can already tell the men will need you. War is hell, and they'll need a bright soul like yours to keep 'em going. You play that horn, and I guarantee they'll be the happiest company in the 101st." He gently smiled, "You remember that."

Pressing her lips together, LaVern nodded, "I will, sir. Goodnight and thank you, sir."

Entering the cold hallway, Vern hugged her own torso. Sink's words coursed through her busy mind as she searched for her quarters. Never in her life had she ever been told she was 'needed' and it made butterflies swarm her emotions.

Locating the correct entrance, LaVern quietly opened the door to find the dark room empty. Slapping a shivering hand against the wall, she searched for a light switch. A lone dangling light bulb swung from the ceiling in time with the smooth rocking of the ship beneath her. She saw all of the cots were nice and neat, with one in particular with clothes sprawled around the footlocker. Green bottles of Scottish whiskey, Vat69 was on an unmade bed. Setting down her beloved bugle on the only unclaimed cot left, LaVern snatched up a bottle of half-empty whiskey.

"Congratulations to me," she said dryly, taking a swig of the burning booze. The warmth tingled her chest as she stripped down and pulled on the olive drab sleeping shirt and pants. She had never liked the feel of pants around her legs, but knew she would have to get used to it.

**Thank you so much for reading!**

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	3. Trumpet Vine

**I hope you enjoy reading!**

**Trumpet Vine**

"Shut up, Lew… you'll wake the kid."

The voice sounded nothing like her fathers, so LaVern cracked open one timid chocolate eye. A short man was hopping on one foot in circles as he tried to slide on a pair of pants. Another handsome, dark-haired officer lay sprawled on his unmade cot, clearly suffering the consequences of a hangover. Sitting up on one elbow, the sleepy bugler remembered she was on a ship headed to England.

"'Morning, fellas. Sleep well?" She said cheerfully, startling the officers.

The shorter man yanked up his trousers clear past his belly button, with two legs stuffed into one leg. The other sat up, drowsily rubbing his dark and shadowed eyes. They looked at her as if she had six legs and 12 noses.

"What? Never seen a woman before?" she snorted, pulling on her own uniform. "You never even answered my question…"

"Are you the bugler girl Dick threw in here last night? You're the whiskey thief…" She just let the accusation roll off her shoulders, waiting for the next wave of questions.

"How old are you?" The imp of a man interrogated her as she ran a comb threw her bob.

"I am 20 years of age. Why, do I look older?" She sassed, mischievously cocking a square eyebrow. They were lost for words.

"Yes," she leaned forward, squinting to read the larger man's name. "Nixon, I am Easy's bugler. Are you talking about Lieutenant Winters? The lean red-head?"

"We prefer the term, red-headed Eskimo." He slapped his jowls together drowsily.

One side of her lips curving, "My apologies, sir."

"We'll be porting in England in a matter of minutes, miss. You're a late sleeper, I see?"

Brushing off dark strands of dead hair off her lap, LaVern stood from her cot, "No, it's just the ship rocked me like a baby."

"All it did was made me hurl…" Harry mumbled irritably under his breath. LaVern good-naturedly chuckled. She liked Welsh, but Nixon was too mysterious for her taste. Much like that Joe Liebgott fellow last night. They both sparked too many questions in her mind.

A sharp fist met with their door, sounding out a startling knock, "Five minutes 'til port!" A husky voice bellowed through the hardwood. Her heart began to pound, so many unanswered questions flooding her mind. Swarms of men were out there, and she couldn't remember anybody's name to save her life.

"Nervous?" Lewis raised his eyebrows as he shoved wrinkled uniforms into a canvas rucksack.

Flustered, she blurted out a hasty reply, "No… no, I'm not."

"I don't believe you," he scoffed, smirking.

"W-well… you should!"

Harry eyed the quarreling siblings, "You two shut up and get ready."

"Yes, sir." They replied, rolling their tired eyes. The two were like children. LaVern was ready to admit his lack of compassion was disheartening.

_Boys are only mean to you if they like you. It's their ridiculous way of flirting. _She heard her wise sisters reassuring voice. It soothed her social worries a bit, as Welsh bent down to get her bags by habit.

"No! I-I've got it." She snatched the olive drab luggage from his hands, "I can take care of myself, thank you." The minute her hands grasped the handles, they fell to the ground. Her weak arms weren't prepared for the weight.

"Gah, hand 'em over." Nixon held out his hands, noticing her struggle. A golden and plain wedding band wrapped around his ring finger. He was a married man.

"Who's the girl you're leaving behind?" she pushed, always eager to hear a good romance.

He sarcastically looked up to her, "Nobody that matters."

"That's not a nice thing to say, Nix." She slightly startled herself with the new use of a nickname.

Dryly he spoke, "I'm expecting a Dear John letter any time now."

"Oh, sorry…"

They continued down the hallway, with Harry trailing behind. He held one hand over his pale lips, trying desperately to keep his sick in.

"Yea, don't worry about it. What's she? My third, right Harry?" LaVern couldn't believe how carelessly he took on marriage. To her, it was a special bond that had no backdoor to it. It was one of those 'forever' things. Rather than spewing out her frilly opinion, Vern locked her jaw and pushed open the door with her shoulder. Once again men swarmed with their smoking and laughing.

"Stay close to me," Harry kindly warned, holding out his arm to her.

A familiar Georgie Luz cat called as she looped her arm into his, "Yo, Welshie! I thought you had a girl!"

Smiling broadly, the green now leaving his complexion, he proudly flashed an engagement ring to LaVern, "It's true, I do. I'm a little more enthusiastic than Mr. No-romance Nixon over there. Her name is Kitty, Kitty Grogan."

"Oh, congratulations, Harry!" LaVern beamed, patting his arm as he gently guided her through the rowdy soldiers.

They then stood at the top of the ramp, her bright face glowing; LaVern saw the rich golden colors of the English trees. A thick line of men trampled down the ramp, each with emotions all their own.

Winters tapped both of their shoulders from behind, seriousness lining his face. His words were lively, but his expression the opposite. "Glad to see you're alright, Private. You'll be housed with the Popplewells; you and Walter Gordon."

LaVern scrunched her brows together, "Who's that?"

"That'd be me," a smooth and cheerful voice sang from behind the Lieutenant. "Nice to meet you, little miss bugler." The handsomely featured gentleman sealed the introduction with a wink.

"Claiborne, let me make it clear that you will have an escort at all times. Colonel Sink's orders. Walter will take you to your housing, and you will begin jump training tomorrow."

"That'll be fun," Gordon elbowed her in the ribs, whispering sarcastically.

LaVern respectfully saluted Lt. Winters, and the fiery haired man returned it. He turned on his heels and began trotting down the ramp, disappearing into the sea of anxious men. Turning around, Vern noticed that Harry and Nixon had gone their separate ways, too.

"But he had my things!" she exclaimed, spinning in circles. Once she turned around, LaVern saw that Gordon held her things in his arms, with a smug smile slathered on her face.

"Ready?"

B.o.B.

"Just be thankful you didn't get Sobel. He's still around, but Nixon will be doing your training."

"Who the hell is Sobel?" She internally groaned at the thought of being stuck with dead beat Nixon, until she heard about their old CO.

Smokey, as he had ordered her to call him, took a deep breath, "Sobel is the dickweed we had to train with back in Georgia- also in North Carolina."

"What made him a dickweed?"

"You know those kind of people that are only living to make you miserable? That's Sobel… that son of a bitch would make us run six miles in 13 minutes, Vern. Twelve mile marches, _every _Friday night. No weekend passes, no breaks, no nothin' other than pure hell."

"But you're a better soldier for it, Walter."

"I told you, call me Smokey."

She grinned, "Sorry." Their boots marched in time against the English cobblestone road. "What's jumping like? Is it hard?"

"Don't ask me, I barely got my wings." He chuckled. "Talk to Shifty and Tab, they're the good troopers."

"God, more names to remember…"

He adjusted the sack dangling off his shoulder, "And, here we are."

A humble and pleasant cottage was situated before the two new friends. Dark stained trim was dancing along the white plaster, forming symmetrical patterns. Trumpet vine intertwined with the mailbox and the rod iron gate that shut off the yard of ancient trees. The beautiful home left the homesick LaVern speechless.

Smokey was fiddling around with something at his side, leaving the small woman to gawk at her boarding house.

"And, for our little bugler," a smile was heard in his words, as Smokey secured a fiery Trumpet vine bloom into her dark curls. How appropriate, LaVern chuckled to herself.

"Thanks _Smokey_," she added an extra emphasize to his desired name. "Am I getting a nickname?"

He nudged her shoulder, "You have to get your wings first."

"Yea, yea," she playfully rolled her eyes, growing tired of being the novice.

Smokey poked his dense thumb into the small of her back, "Get in there, Claiborne."

Allowing him to sling her packs over his own back again, LaVern quietly knocked on the grand mahogany door. No reply, but small pattering footsteps echoed through the house.

This time, Smokey knocked and it was anything but timid.

"Mooomm! Somebody's at the doooor!" An adolescent voice called, his accent making a smirk crawl on her lips.

Moments later, a tall and lean woman with striking green eyes swung open the door. She wiped both sud-covered hands into her soiled apron.

"Oh, dear Lord!" She exclaimed, realizing it was two men standing at her door. She was hiding her face with her arms as she frantically tried to fix her hair. "Please forgive me!"

"No worries," Smokey cooed, swallowing the uprising laughter. "Is this the Popplewell residence? My comrade Private Claiborne and I are to be housed here."

"Yes," her quiet accent squeaked. "Come in, come in." She opened her arm, offering for their entrance. The small boy who's voice that belonged to was swinging in the rocking chair while propped up on his knees.

The lobby was dark and not home-like like it appeared from the outside. It smelled strongly of seasonal potpourri and moth balls. LaVern could practically feel her excitement crashing down.

"Your room is upstairs… I didn't realize there would be two of you. Dinner is at 7 o'clock, and don't be late. The door is locked at 10 o'clock, so don't stay out partying."

"More soldiers to play with!" The boy cried, latching himself onto LaVern's leg. She saw his battalions of green, tin soldiers sprawled across the Persian rug. The boy was lively, while his mother acted as if she was a bitter old woman.

Mrs. Popplewell carelessly waved over her shoulder, going back to her work, "Ignore Burl, you two."

B.o.B.

"I don't know _how _she expects us to ignore the child, when he's like this," LaVern whispered to Smokey who had his nose buried in a pin-up magazine. "Goddamn it, Smokey… get your big nose out of that!" She ripped away the raunchy page, then angrily crossed her arms over her chest.

Burl was so interested in their weapons and maps, compasses and canteens, he was practically drooling. The wild child was around the age of twelve, with a burning dream to be a soldier in any war. He pressed the grease gun to his shoulder and made rapid firing noises.

"If he touches my horn… he's dead."

"Oh, lighten up Vern. Let 'em have some fun… his old lady doesn't let him."

They continued their whispering as he pretended to talk code into a radio receiver, "Where do you reckon his father is?"

"Probably killed in the Great War."

She slowly shook her head, still eyeing the imaginative boy, "Poor thing, no wonder he got so excited over us. You think he knows I'm a woman?"

Walter chuckled down to her, "As long as you have new toys for him, I don't think he gives a rat's ass about your sexuality." He turned his attention to the child, who was now running around the room with arms outstretched, pretending to be an C-47."Burl, buddy boy, my comrade and I need to get some rest." Smokey nonchalantly begged for him to go. "Remember, tomorrow is a new day."

Burl gently sat down Smokey's helmet that had been engulfing his head. "Thanks for letting me play with your stuff." He shyly shuffled nearer to the two weary friend. Burl wrapped one arm around Smokey's leg and his other around LaVern's. "You guys are the best," he mumbled into the olive of their uniform's pants. Beaming, Smokey clapped the young trooper's back, while Vern ruffled his hair.

"Go get some sleep; exhaustion is a soldier's worst enemy."

He quickly pulled away, "Wha..? You're a _lady_?"

Vern blushed at the Burl's forwardness, "What difference does it make?"

"Americans are weird. Women in the Army? Pshh…" he walked casually from the room, all beauty of the moment a million miles gone.

LaVern turned with a dumbfound look on her face, only to find Smokey doubled over in laughter. "Ohh, you should see your face!" He called, clutching his abdomen.

She stuck her tongue out at him, running as she claimed the only bed in the room. "And for that, you can sleep on the floor, Walter Gordon!"

The men of Easy were comical men with a good sense of humor. As she snuggled under the musky covers of the guest bed, LaVern smiled at Smokey who flipped on the cold floorboards.

"'Night, Smokey."

"Shuddyap."

Now it was Vern who was laughing.

**Yay? Nay? Drop me a review and let me know what you think! Thank you for waiting for my updates and thank you so much for reading! You're the best! :D**


	4. Star Dust

**I hope all my American readers had a great Thanksgiving with family and friends!**

**Please enjoy and leave suggestions and feedback!**

**Star Dust**

"Upsy daisy, Smokey," LaVern rocked his drowsy body. He defensively shielded his eyes, mumbling nonsense about the weather and food. Still in the doghouse, he was sprawled upon a thick and scratchy olive drab wool blanket. "Breakfast downstairs, can't keep our little fan waiting!"

"Five… more… minutes…" Gordon begged, embracing his pillow tighter.

Vern tapped his side with the toe of her boot, "Nah-uh. Up, now." She clapped her hands together, "Don't make me bugle…"

He made some inaudible gurgles and sat up, digging his fists into two bloodshot eyes. "I slept like shit, thanks to you."

LaVern scoffed, "One thing you'll learn in time… watch your mouth around me."

"You and Luz will get along perfectly, then," he retorted, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

She shyly tucked a curl behind her ear, "That's the short 'un, right?"

"Yea, so is Perco… that little Italian." He smirked.

"It's gonna take me awhile to remember all these goddamn names, Smoke."

He pulled on a fresh uniform and looked over at her as he tightened the belt, "Breakfast?"

"Breakfast."

Sure enough, Burl was racing around the kitchen table, anxiously waiting for his role models.

"'Morning, Burl," Smokey's dry morning voice crooned as he ruffled Burl's hair. "I can't stay long this morning, I've got field training."

They all sat down at the humble eating table.

"You do?" LaVern raised her eyebrows as she unfolded the napkin onto her lap.

"Can I come with you?!" Burl asked, bouncing in his chair.

Smokey smirked, "I don't think your mother would exactly approve. Maybe some other time, bud."

His sulked as his mother slopped oatmeal mash into his bowl, "Oh, stop it, Burl."

"But I wanna GO!"

LaVern leaned towards him, desperate to sooth the ruffled feathers. "Would you like to come into town with me? I've got to practice, and I'd love to take you with me!"

"Will there be soldiers?" He widened his bright, blue eyes.

She laughed, "Probably."

"You men are everywhere. On the streets, in town at the shops… I'm getting rather tired of this war." Mrs. Popplewell sat down after serving everybody.

"Can he tag along with me, ma'am? I think it'd be good for him."

She looked from Smokey to Burl to Vern, "Promise me you'll stay out of trouble, and listen to Miss Claiborne?"

"Yes, mama!" He beamed, swirling around his hot cereal around in excitement.

Smokey glanced down at his wristwatch as he spooned oatmeal into his mouth, "I gotta head out. Thank you for breakfast, Mrs. Popplewell. I'll be back this evening." He stood and slapped LaVern's back before heading out.

Her heart sunk, eyeing the amount of uneaten food in her bowl, and feeling Popplewell's cat-like eyes on her.

"Can we _go now_?" Burl asked, irritably.

"Finish up your food."

He grumbled and shook more cinnamon on it. "Easy now! That cost a lot of ration stamps!"

They were on stamps here just like back at home. I guess that's why it's called a world war, Vern thought to herself, everybody is affected.

Minutes of awkward silence later, the two younger people had finished eating. "I'll go get my bugle, then we can head out. Alright?"

"Okay!" he beamed from ear to ear.

B.o.B.

"Take my hand while we cross the street."

He groaned, "But my chaps are over there! It'll be embarrassing!"

They paused at the corner, and Vern looked down at him with bright eyes, "Honestly, you are a silly boy. Imagine how green with envy they will be when they see you with a grown woman in an American uniform. C'mon now, Burl." She sealed the offer with a wink.

He clucked his tongue and pointed an agreeing finger up at her, "You're right. Just look like you're in love with me… make 'em believe it." LaVern struggled to keep in her laughter at the overly—confident boy who swaggered at her side.

Burl's fellow classmate's stopped their rowdy game of basketball and watched them with wide eyes. LaVern could practically feel him glowing as he strolled with his head held high.

The pair of friends walked down the sidewalk that was littered in crisp autumn leaves. LaVern knew the boys were already at the local tavern, and she intended to play for them. It would give her a chance to prove herself and truly mingle with her new comrades.

"And, we're here."

"A tavern?" Burl spat out, squeezing her hand in surprise. "Mum would kill me!"

"Relax! You're with me and the rest of my company is in here, I figured you'd like to meet them."

"Are you sure it's okay?"

She slipped her silver bugle from its corduroy sleeve, "Let's go!"

She busted through the door with a bright smile painted on her lips. It had been ages since she'd taken in the low lighting, heavy smell and lively-ness of a bar. Back home, LaVern had spent a lot of time in bars. Dancing mostly. Swinging, jiving and hopping with whoever's hands grasped her's.

She beamed as she caught the sight of Penkala's round face. "Heya, boys!"

"Look who it is- our little bugler girl," Malarkey crooned, elbowing Muck who was leaning against the bar.

Skip gestured his bottle of beer towards the horn in her hand, "Come to play us something?"

"Who's the boy?" Mama Carwood Lipton asked abruptly. "He shouldn't be here."

"I'm boarding with his family, Lip. His mother knows he's with me."

He sipped his beer, "Then by all means, play us something!"

"What'll it be? I can play most anything," Vern flashed her most brilliant smile to the room of men, yearning for their acceptance.

George Luz managed to pull away from his game of darts, "Stardust." He said plainly.

Burl tugged eagerly at her hand, "I love that song, Vernie. Please play it?"

She kneeled down to his level, "Do you know the words?"

"Of course! Please?"

Dousing down her grin, LaVern pressed the cold metal of the bugle to her pursed lips. Burl's undeveloped child's voice sang high with her smooth notes.

_And now the purple dusk of twilight time_

_Steals across the meadows of my heart_

_High up in the sky the little stars climb_

_Always reminding me we're apart._

Luz grasped the boy's shoulders and gave his voice a whirl at the next verse:

_You wander down the lane and far away_

_Leaving me a song that will not die_

_Love is now the stardust of yesterday_

_The music of years gone by_

LaVern was impressed by the richness of the short man's voice, and closed her small eyes shut to give the song more emotion. Her bugle was smooth and did not blast. In the company of the men, she performed better than she ever had back in Chicago.

With her eyes closed, Vern did not take notice of the stealing glances Luz was shooting her direction. The remainder of the men, and even the young boy all sang the chorus:

_Sometimes I wonder why I spend_

_The lonely nights dreaming of a song_

_The melody haunts my reverie_

_And I am once again with you_

_When our love was new_

_And each kiss an inspiration_

_But that was long ago_

_And now my consolation_

_Is in the stardust of a song_

They all clapped wildly, and shouted as she let down the shining bugle. "Wow boys, I'm impressed!" She whispered down at Burl, "Especially you, Burl. You were the best."

His face grew bright red as he eyed the broad shouldered heroes.

"Just promise us you'll play 'Sunrise Serenade' every morning, eh?" Talbert smiled at her, a glass of beer in his hand.

She chuckled lightly, "It's got some tough notes in it, Tabby… but I'll see what I can do."

Liebgott elbowed Bull, "Hey, I like this girl. I say we keep her."

"I'll agree with that," Bull grinned, speaking with a roaring voice Vern would never be able to get used to.

"Oh, thank you so much for your blessings, boys." She sarcastically spoke as she emptied the spit valves of her bugle.

"Holy shit! That's nasty!" Muck hollered, backing dramatically away.

"Calm your tits, Skip. It's just condensation."

Luz piped in for his shot at a joke, "Hey! Watch your language around the boy!"

LaVern responded by poking George in the chest, "Shuddyap, Georgie."

"What's a 'tits'?" Burl looked up at them all with huge, innocent doe eyes.

The entire bar proceeded to roar in laughter. The boy was a bigger morale booster than she was… and it was her job. She simply ruffled his hair and tried to contain her laughter. Oh, to be naïve again…

**So short- I know! I've been studying for finals like a mad woman, so don't expect any constant updates for another three weeks. I'm so sorry… trust me, I'd rather update than study! :p**


	5. George On My Mind

**Okay, what?! I haven't updated since Thanksgiving?! I'm so sorry readers!**

**George on My Mind**

"Ho-lee _shit_!" Muck cried, struggling to contain he laughter. Perconte held his stomach and Luz held his round head high. "Damn that was good. Your best one yet, if I do say so, Luz!"

"Thank you, thank you very much, gentlemen!" Luz chirrped in an exaggerated English accent, capturing glances from the locals.

LaVern sat under a tree, boots resting on bricks lining the street. She held her silver bugle in her hand, Burl piling moist dirt before him. She cocked a curious eyebrow at the men's laughter. It appeared to be an inside joke, but she was a nosy hen and just had to know.

"Burl, stay there." She motioned him to stay as she stood. Vern brushed off her trousers before trotting to the cackling roosters. Burl was an unruly child and simply trailed directly behind her.

She smiled wildly, trying to keep her head straight, "What's all the hubbub, boys?"

It was one of those moments when the person struggling to tell the story was funnier than the story itself.

Muck leaned heavily on Perco, who was gasping for breath in-between laughs, "L-Luz, goosed that schmuck… so damn good!"

"What schmuck? Who's the schmuck?" LaVern couldn't hold a straight face, just watching them buckle with laughter.

"Oh that dog just ain't gonna hunt!" Luz said with a flush face. This only confused Vern more. She held a hand on her hip, not giving up on getting the truth out. The men laughed even harder once George had crooned that phrase.

"What is so funny?" She raised her voice.

"Yeah mates, what's the joke here?" Burl's small, British accent disturbed the laughter.

LaVern spun on her heel, narrowed eyes ready to stare Burl down, "I told you to stay."

"I've been told to do a lot of things. Doesn't mean I'll do them."

Luz stepped forward, his face stick straight. "You'll listen to a lady when she give you an order, boy." George hovered over him, eyes warning, "Now either go home, or go sit where Miss Claiborne told you to. Do you understand?"

LaVern rolled her shoulders back, as startled by Luz's seriousness as Burl was. The small boy's eyes grew misty, and before Luz could see his lower lip quiver, Burl bolted down the street with tears streaming down his cheeks.

Muck and Perconte still giggled, barely paying attention to the action that had just taken place. Luz watched Burl run over the cobblestone, and a look of satisfaction was vaguely on his face. "He's an unruly and obnoxious child, isn't he?"

LaVern took a step back, "That may be true, but you didn't need to be so hard on him, Georgie."

He looked over to her, "Where I come from, you do as you're told."

"Then why are you such a joker?" Vern smirked, flirting unintentionally.

He twirled his hand on his wrist and bit back a smile, "Because here, if you're bad, the worst thing they can do is send you home. Now, can you tell me what's so bad about that?"

"You've got a point, Georgie," LaVern winked at him quickly.

"Well, well," Muck smirked. "Look at the time. I've got to go pick of my laundry."

Perconte swayed from one foot to the other, "And I promised Bull a game of basketball. I'll see you around later, Luz. And hopefully you too, miss."

Frank's thick black eyebrow wiggled with a wink at her, and she swore she saw steam spew out of George's ears. "_Lay off, damnit._" Vern thought she heard Luz spit in Franks ear as he sauntered past them. She swallowed down a chuckle.

Luz turned back to her, his puppet-like face red with flush.

"So, who did you goose today? I am so confused between you boys…"

George nodded, "Oh, I convinced Sobel to cut a fucking fence with cows on the other side."

"How the hell did you manage that?" Vern laughed lightly, showing interest as she fiddled with the spit valve on her bugle.

"My devilish good looks," Luz teased, caressing his chin with his hands.

She rolled her eyes, "No really, how?"

"Two words: Major- Horton."

She shifted her weight onto her left leg, "I'm still confused."

Luz swung his arm through hers, "Wanna go pass some time, lovely lady?"

LaVern pushed her short hair behind her ear, "Only if you actually explain this entire thing to me…"

B.o.B.

"Fuck, shit. Fuck, shit," Luz paced the barn floor that was serving as a cafeteria, rain falling heavily behind his silhouette. The NCO's sat around a wobbly table, discussing something seemingly important. "I really fucked up this time, Vern."

She still held her bugle at her side- it was the only reason she was even there. "The NCO's will figure it all out, Georgie. It's fine."

He looked up at her, "You lying sack of shit."

"Hey!" She gasped, holding a finger up to his nose. "George Luz, you never talk to me like that again!"

Luz's round face cracked in half and he laughed his casual smile, "I was just testing you. You know, seeing if you are a good moral booster like you're supposed to be."

She shrugged, "I think I don't even need to be here. You make the guys laugh more than I do."

"That's because they've known me for two years. We've all slept in the same damn bed practically for two years, dealt with Sobel for two years, ran up that damn mountain for two years. You've been with them for how long? Couple months? You're just newlyweds, Vern. Once these boys see blood, I'd bet the shittiest race horse that you'll be their shining angel." George Luz was rarely serious, but when he was, you _felt _every word that man was saying.

She smiled humbly, hoping he was right. Back in Chicago every man in the band she played with wanted a slice of _the _LaVern Claiborne. Here she was a backdrop and just the once who played the dreaded reveille in the morning light.

"Let's have a listen," George slid his Lucky Strike behind his ear and strolled over to watch the NCO's make decisions.

Vern leaned heavily against a wooden beam, swinging her toe into the musty dirt. Guarnere gave them all a lasting glance and began scribbling his vow vocally, "I hereby… no longer… wish to serve… as a noncommissioned officer in Easy Company."

They all scratched their signatures at the bottom of the torn sheet. Carwood Lipton gathered the papers into the center of the worn table, a pained expression lining his pale face. Vern could feel the tension in the cool air, and she fiddled with the spit valve once again.

**May 31****st****, 1944- Upottery, England**

Lavern felt lost, insecure and isolated. Not because she was a woman, that factor barely crossed her mind, but that she didn't have a band to play with her. The squeal of a bugle is desolate without the thrum of the tom-toms, or the mellow sizzle of a saxophone. As she held her instrument, she felt lost.

She beat the heels of her boots against the crate beneath her, holding the cold metal to her lips. Bored, Vern hummed a snappy swing tune into her mouth piece. Men strolled by, not even paying attention to the short scrap of a woman that looked more like a young boy with her hair pulled back. But two men, chatting excitedly amongst themselves paused in front of her.

The one with a rounder face than Luz and folded over ears bent back his head as if to get a better look at her. "Ey, aren't you the bugler girl that I keep hearing about?"

She shrugged, keeping a straight face, "I don't know, am I?" She lowered her bugle to her lap and properly crossed her legs.

The second man stepped forward offering his hand, "Of course it's her, Hoobs, jeezus. 'Name's Petty, Cleveland- pleasure to meet you finally."

"LaVern," she returned the handshake, bending the cupid's bow in her lips.

The first man introduced himself as well, "I'm Donald Hoobler. Sorry for being so dense."

"It's quite alright. It's a pleasure to meet you, Don and Cleveland."

Hoobler regained his confident posture, "So, you ready for the big jump tonight, Bugling Betty?"

Vern raised an eyebrow, "Betty?"

"Eh, two B's. Sounded good."

She shrugged, "I guess I'm ready, even though I don't know what the hell is going on. Nobody can be bothered to tell the bugler what's happening. Jesus, you might as well leave me behind!"

"Nonsense, we'll get you all your gear, girl," Petty kindly offered as Hoobler gently helped her off of the crates.

"Meehan, Winters and Nixon will get you caught up. We have a briefing in 10 minutes exactly."Hoobler reassured her, winding through the rows upon rows of barracks.

She trailed behind the two men, holding her brass close to her beating heart. The English overcast weather drizzled through her Garrison cap that covered a tight knot atop her head.

-o-o-

Lieutenant Meehan paced fiercely before prints of graphs, maps of French Towns and arrows pointing to causeways. LaVern tried desperately to concentrate on the words he spewed, but first she pondered how within two months she was in England, surrounded by brave men, given the grand opportunity to play for them. Any other girl might have turned and ran, but with talent comes guts, and that was exactly what she needed.

"-thus linking Omaha and Utah into one continuous beachhead. Each trooper will learn this operation by heart and will know his and every other outfit's mission to the detail!"

LaVern leaned over to Smokey's ear, "What was like I didn't hear."

Gordon elbowed her, "Then you're fucked…"

Vern rolled her eyes and spun her finger in the indentation of her mouthpiece. "Ask me if I give two fucks…" Luz's way of looking at this whole damn thing was not a good influence.

"Do you give a fuck, Vern?" Smokey played along, leaning and whispering.

"PRIVATE GORDON AND CLAIBORNE! DO YOU HAVE SOMETHING YOU WISH TO TELL THE REGIMENT?!" Meehan bellowed down at them from the small stage.

LaVern's face burned the darkest shade of red imaginable.

"NO, SIR!" Her and Smokey screamed in return.

Meehan shot them another glare before turning his attention to Dukeman's questions.

She dared whisper to Smokey again, "Yea, I do got something to say. 'Do I look like a give a fuck?'"

Smokey crossed his finger over his lips laced with Lucky Strike smoke, "Shhh, you'll get your ass chewed again."

She slumped forward and rest her elbows on her knees. Vern held her uninterested face and vaguely listened in.

"And we will drop behind this Atlantic wall five hours before the 4th Infantry lands at Utah." Meehan slapped the map of Normandy's beaches and continued to speak to the smoke lingering tent, "Between our assembly area and the battalion's objective is a German garrison. Right here in this area is Sainte- Marie- du- Mont. Easy Company will destroy that garrison."

-o-o-

"Three day supply of K-rations, chocolate bars, Charms candy, powdered coffee, sugar, matches, compass, bayonet, entrenching tool, ammunition, gas mask, musette bag with ammo, my weapon, my .45, canteen, two cartons of smokes, Hawkins mine, two grenades, smoke grenade, Gammon grenade, TNT, THIS BULLSHIT, and a pair of nasty skivvies!" Joe Toye bitterly slapped his gloves against the pavement of the air field.

"What's your point?" Frank Perconte's balance struggled as he stood.

LaVern was in a fluster to find her jump gear, and especially George Luz. She had grown the closest with him, and Vern hoped he would be able to help her get her shit together.

"_I should have listened in briefing. Stupid, stupid, stupid._" Vern mumbled angrily to herself, "_I should have listened._"

She grew even more worried once she saw almost everybody had their gear on but her. She was still in her plain uniform, fingering the velvet ribbon hanging from her bugle. Vern looked lost and distressed, and even more terrified to ask the angry, raspy voiced man where George was.

"Excuse me, sir. Could you tell me where Luz is?"

He didn't even bother to look up, despite her feminine voice, "He's over that-a-way." Toye pointed vaguely with his left pointer finger.

With very little direction, Vern stepped over the rows of laid out gear. Her heart was thumping nervously in her chest, searching almost desperately for the short puppet-like man.

Failing to watch where she was going, Vern knocked into Lipton who was giving orders to the men. "Don't let your families miss out on 40,000 dollars, boys!"

The sharp bell of her bugle clashed into Carwood's elbow.

"Shit!" She spun to instantly check her instrument. The bell had a crisp bend in the edge. Her heart sank.

"Damn, I'm sorry, miss. I didn't see you there…"

Vern shook her head, trying not to show her sorrow for the wound to her treasure, "It's my fault. I'm waltzing around like a chicken with it's head cut off."

"Where's your gear, trooper? We're jumping nearly momentarily-"

"Hey, do you know anything about Bill's brother, Lip?" a curly haired man stepped into the picture interrupting the awkward conversation.

"I'm sorry, can you point me in the direction of George Luz's whereabouts?" Vern asked nervously, feeling both of the taller men's eyes on her.

They both pointed in the same unhelpful way that Toye did, and she struggled to keep a sigh down. Instead she nodded in thanks and walked off with a purpose.

"Is that the bugler?" She heard Johnny Martin ask, clearly both still watching her.

Lipton replied, "Yeah. I sure hope she survives the jump. Poor thing."

LaVern's blood boiled, hating the sound of being pitied, even if it was a distance away.

"Does anybody know how the _hell _this thing works?" Vern's ears perked up once she heard Luz's distinct voice. She shuffled forward, seeing him hold an unnamed object in his fingers as if it possessed a disease.

"Jesus Christ, am I glad to see you, Georgie."

Luz took a step forward, "Shit, where's your gear? Oh, and nice going today at briefing. Real good job at keeping that big mouth of yours shut."

"What did I tell you?"

"Hey, I gotta give you some shit. I can't always treat you like an angel or else you'll forget about me!"

Vern snorted, "Likely story, Luz. Oh, and nobody has even bothered to give me any gear!"

The massive Bull Randleman stepped forward and plucked the fat cigar from his lips, "This ain't Chicago, girl. Ya gotta pick up the gear yourself."

She had never been more humiliated in her life. If she had a tail, it would be in between her legs and pushing her towards the hills.

"Oh…" she let out, face flushed and hair a mess.

"Colonel Sink," a short, pink-eared man shoved a tri-folded letter in Bill's face. He licked the ice cream from the corner of his thin lips before dashing his eyes through the dry literature.

Luz jumped at the chance and dramatically recited, "Soldiers of the Regiment! Toniiight! Is the niiight! Of nights… Today as you read this, you're in route to the great adventure you have trained for over two years…"

"So that's why they gave us ice cream," Bill mumbled, spooning the last amount of soupy slop into his mouth.

"Damn, this is happening," Malarkey spluttered out loud.

"Yea, it is and I'm not ready!"

Luz clapped to her side, "Georgie will escort you to get your gear, alright?"

Vern blew the scraggly hair out of her face, "Alright."

Once again Luz swung his arm through hers and leaded her to get the jumping gear. Before they could even reach the sizing tent, Meehan's familiar barking voice called for them.

"EASY COMPANY, LISTEN UP!" Lieutenant Meehan was standing on the hood of a jeep, his face slathered in camouflage paint. I looked over at Luz, whose face was equally dark. Vern thought he was just about to give the men a powerful speech before the actual invasion.

"The Channel coast is socked in with rain and fog. No jump tonight!"

One trooper groaned in pure disappointment while the rest of the men looked down at the concrete beneath their booted feet. "The invasion has been postponed- we're on a 24 stand-down."

**I'll be updating this story regularly now! Do you like Vern being paired with Luz? If you do, let me know and if you don't, let me know who you would like more!**

**Thanks for reading! It means the world!**


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